


here's a prayer

by BonesOfBirdWings



Category: Peace Beneath the City - Iron & Wine
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Gen, Larger interactive fiction story to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11020317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesOfBirdWings/pseuds/BonesOfBirdWings
Summary: Henry can only plead - that's the only option left to him.





	here's a prayer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [within_a_dream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/gifts).



> Hi withinadream - so, there is a much much larger story coming, if you're willing to wait for a couple months. Graduation and such was more hectic than I expected, but I am about a sixth of the way through a more detailed interactive fiction story that really explores the world. This is in the same universe, however, and "Henry" is the player character in the interactive fiction work.

“Hey,” Henry asks the old woman, fingers dancing over her wares as if tracing invisible gossamer threads, “how much for the stay-away charm?”

The woman hums thoughtfully. “Iron-free?” she rasps, arching an eyebrow. The furrows in her brow deepen into chasms.

Henry grimaces, rising out of his crouch. “Not one of them,” he corrects. “So no, iron is fine.”

“You sure?” she asks skeptically. “You–”

“Iron is fine,” he repeats emphatically, snatching up the iron charm and shoving a twenty-dollar bill at her, probably far more than the charm was actually worth. He ignores the cold bite of it into his skin, and quickly retreats from her makeshift market.

The old woman calls something after him, but he can’t quite make it out, thankfully. He hooks the charm onto the right cuff of his shirt, making sure that no part of the iron touches him. Looking ruefully at the loops and whorls burned into his fingers where he grabbed the charm, he reflects that he should have been more careful, but... well, he’s always been too reckless.

He needs this, though, for his next stop. It’s not wise to travel down there unarmed and unshielded.

The entrance is nearby, a dark tunnel that descends sharply beneath the shadowy buildings and flickering streetlamps. Steeling himself, Henry hops down the steps two at a time.

The darkness is absolute. He can only hear his own footsteps and a low susurration, almost like the earth around him is breathing. He doesn’t dare light a match or use his cellphone’s flashlight – that would be folly, down here.

He hears the revel before he sees it, the sound of lilting music and frantic dancing drifting up the stairs. Some poor mortals must have wandered too deeply.

The fairy hill is lit by a cold, unnatural firelight. At the center of the room, rings of humans dance endlessly. They are a motley bunch, young and old, male and female, black and white. All of them are panting from exhaustion. Bloody footprints cover the ground. One of them, a young Asian man, stares wildly at Henry in desperate supplication. Henry swallows heavily and turns away. He has learned empathy, a long, painful process, but it would do him no favors here.

Across the hall, he spies his goal – an ethereally beautiful woman who is watching the dancing people impassively.

He weaves between the dancers, his feet inhumanly nimble. It is the work of moments to traverse the dance hall.

“So,” the woman says disinterestedly as he approaches, her eyes still fixed on the slowly dying humans, “why are you here, boy?”

Henry swallows, an unfamiliar nervousness bubbling in his stomach. “I, uh, I...”

The woman hisses impatiently. “Spit it out,” she snaps.

The words tumble out of Henry’s mouth. “I come to plead for my mother.” He clamps his lips shut, but the damage has already been done. He knows that the Fair Folk are canny and dangerous, and to lose at their typical games of word play, while not fatal, would not be pleasant. He’s already off to a bad start – it wasn’t like this comes naturally to him, and he definitely wasn’t raised with it.

The woman sneers at him. “Your mother is fine, last I heard.”

“She... ah, she came to this hill? A couple days ago?”

The woman smiles maliciously at him. “Your mother hasn’t visited this hill in the past hundred years.”

“I mean my human mother,” Henry clarifies, irritated.

“Oh?” the woman asks, seemingly innocent. “And what’s her name again?”

“I’m not going to give you that,” Henry snaps. “I wasn’t raised here, but –”

“Oh no,” the woman interrupts, her voice dripping with distain. “You grew up on the surface, breathing in that noxious excuse for air.”

Henry couldn’t help but snort. “Like you don’t breathe it down here. How deep have you excavated now?”

She snarls, exposing too-sharp teeth. “Is this your idea of supplication?”

Henry quickly bows, realizing his mistake. “My apologies,” he says deferentially.

But the damage has been done. “Begone, changeling,” the fairie hisses at him, her perfect features shifting into something alien and predatory. “Your mortal mother shall die in her quest for her son – her _true_ son, and he shall die along with her. I will not lift a finger to help you.”

“I’ll give you my name!” Henry blurts out desperately. He can see his last hope slipping away. He has not been able to persuade his mother to give up her insane goal, and he will not try to appeal to his fairie mother. She does not love, but she regards her stolen human son as her own. Henry will not be able to tear him from her grasp.

The fairie woman snorts. “Your name is worthless, changeling,” she spits. “You have neither the usefulness of a human nor a fairie, but are stuck between. I have no need of you or your name.”

Henry feels his last bit of hope slip away, and with it, his last shred of humanity. “Fine,” he says, and it is like he is speaking from far away. He is not the one speaking these words, which are sharp with ice.

“Fine,” he says, “then I will destroy you. When it comes time, and you are in front of me, I will pay back the mercy you showed today.”

The fairie laughs. “Now,” she chuckles, “you speak like one of the Fair Folk.”

Henry sneers at her. “I belong on the surface,” he says, “like a human, not in these hidey-holes. You know the rot will spread here eventually. They’ll put a landfill on top of your hill and the poison will soak into the ground.”

“Maybe,” the fairie replies, with shrewd eyes. “But by that time, you and your little tragedy troupe will have driven yourselves into an early grave.” She flashes him a smile full of teeth. “So we’ll end up in the same place, really.”

Henry can tell that he’ll get no more out of her, so he leaves the way he came, her mocking laughter and the pleading gazes of the dancers following him out into the sunshine.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this teaser! I'll post/send you the link to the interactive story once it's done and posted.


End file.
